


praeludium to lipstick stains

by Justausernameonline



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Orchestra, F/F, Flash Fiction, trimberly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-07 01:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11048049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justausernameonline/pseuds/Justausernameonline
Summary: Last hour preparations before heading onstage would be nice.(a trimberly school orchestra au)





	praeludium to lipstick stains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vivific](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivific/gifts), [hearden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearden/gifts).



> i just *clenches fists* love trimberly

All their instruments remain downstairs onstage, so that leaves really not much to do but wait, as always.  

“Five bucks I can fit my head through that!” 

Doesn’t mean they’ll stay put.  

Trini keeps her arms folded, hands far from removing her wallet as Jason pulls a five dollar bill for Zack to take, seated at the bottom row with her phone resting on her knee.  It hums a message every minutes or so from Kimberly, detailing her way to school.  She’s looking for parking now.  

Angel Grove High, a small high school for a small town.  That fact presses a lot more weight into her shoulders during the wait.  Often the sport teams get more favorably big crowds, but their tickets sold out.  The repertoire still draws her to dare a longer look at a passage than her fingerboard and Mr. Z, the numbers in their family make the round unity of their sound all the more necessary.  She’s a tad bit ready to book it when one of her strings snap from digging her bow too hard, from tuning the strings too tightly--oh, and the page-turning.  

That’s going to be fun in front of all the seating filled at max.  

She can’t stab someone with her bow and call it a night, also--smack-dab in the center of the program, she has a viola solo.  A viola solo.  Never think the violin steals the glory that it makes one exempt from being the big worry. She's the principal violist.  

In retrospect, she didn’t consider she’d be suggested to perform one, much less do good in the audition to be one of the soloists.  It’s cool when it’s in a compact room with people one knows, but then onstage, she gets more ears and eyeballs.  She didn’t ask for this.  She rather prefers fisticuffs with a glob of gold, thanks very much.

The best thing is, Billy succeeds her with the violin, with roughly the same duration.  Then Kimberly, but like with a movement and just as worse.  Music.  Fun, fun, fun, fun.  But god is it stressful and does she wish them the best.

Speaking of wait and weight--even more doubt creeps on her, chiding her for being stationary, not partaking in fun like Zack sticking his head into a tuba a sophomore vehemently objects to.  She takes her phone and stretches, pressing into the small of her back.  With some pinpricks and loosening muscles, she sighs and lies down on several chairs, laying her phone beside her.  The glare of the studio lights of the orchestra room forces her eyes shut.  

The sun hasn’t set.  The window panes remain warm to the touch, and the lights are ultra-white offensive to her pre-concert workup.  A waste of electricity, she knows.  A pain in the retinas.  The two hours is a tenuous stretch to mayhem, and there isn’t any comfy set of furniture in sight.  It’s a bare orchestral room with most of the instruments downstairs, save for several in percussion.  She kind of needs something dark, muffled, and dry.

She crosses the steps up one, two, three and four past the other chairs until she’s close to Billy playing a suave, hypnotic beat on the drum set, Tommy tapping along with a glockenspiel and hard mallets.  She inspects her backpack surrounded by the rest, amusing herself with the idea of napping with her head inside the biggest pocket.

“Trini!” Billy gets her attention with a light tap from a drumstick.  

“Yeah?”

“You ready?”

“Honestly, Billy, I either want to take a nap or cry my eyes out.”

Billy frowns in concern for her, settling a hand on a top hat to stop its vibration, stopping everything.  She gulps a little at his sympathy.  “I don’t know how I can help you with the last part,” he says, then motions to the empty floor, “but you could try one of those, for starters?”

“What are those?”

“Double bass case.”

Trini’s jaw drops.  It can fit her as easy as a body bag.  Zack treats his double bass like his child, and his case as such.  It's backstage. She can get shut-eye in there. “That’ll do.  Thanks, Billy!” She gives him what she hopes is a smile as she stands up.  

Threading her way down the steps, she calls out to Zack as his head pops out of the tuba, ten dollars wealthier.


End file.
